


You're Not Him

by theemdash



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Episode Related, Feelings, Goodbyes, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Stargate: Continuum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: Everything about this timeline sucks, including the inferior Jack O'Neill showing up at Daniel's apartment door just ahead of the military escort. What the hell doeshewant?





	You're Not Him

**Author's Note:**

> I recently discovered this nearly finished fic in my WIP folder. Imagine my surprise when I realized I started it in 2009, finished the draft in 2017, and just never bothered to finish the continuity check. Well, that inaction ends today! Thanks to [Melayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk) for the beta and to this fandom for still being here for a fic that is literally 10 years late.
> 
> written for stargatefic100 - 005. Lasts

He'd been expecting the knock ever since Sam called. The al'kesh had been spotted all over the world a few short hours ago and it was only a matter of time before Daniel, Sam, and Mitchell would be rounded up. There would be questions for them—how many ships to expect, their firepower, their numbers, their weaknesses—and he, Sam, and Mitchell would be expected to have all the answers. Pushed aside for a year, but useful now. Funny how the military never changed no matter what timeline Daniel was in.

The knock came again, more insistent, as if realizing it was the middle of the night and Daniel might be asleep.

He should have checked the peephole before opening the door. He shouldn't have assumed it would be some nameless MP he'd never met. He should have prepared himself for what it would be like to walk back into a life he almost recognized.

"Dr. Jackson," Colonel O'Neill said. Even out of uniform he looked buttoned-up—clean lines, fresh haircut, and the same aftershave Jack wore. His leather jacket even looked like something hanging in Jack's closet. Something that _hung_ in Jack's closet. Before.

"You can call me Daniel." The words came out woodenly, an automatic response he'd told O'Neill the handful of times they'd come face to face in his first months in this brave, new world. But this Jack wasn't biting. Maybe it was just his way of defying that he and Daniel ever knew each other, in this or any timeline.

"You mind if I come in?"

"We're not—?" Daniel had been expecting an escort, not a social call. 

"I'm not here on 'official' business." Something about the way O'Neill said it turned Daniel's stomach. How many conversations had he had with Jack on the eve of the planet's demise, before one of them would sacrifice himself for the universe? How did O'Neill know this was part of the script? 

O'Neill rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, waiting for the invite. "They'll probably be here soon, but I needed. . . ."

Daniel stepped back. Like he'd ever been able to reject Jack when he needed something. "What's on your mind?" 

O'Neill picked his way into Daniel's apartment, which was more sterile than any other place he'd lived. Daniel had bought some books since the Air Force moved him in, but every stick of furniture was what they'd selected for him. He'd watered the plants and then thrown them out when they died. He hadn't even bought a fish.

Jack traced a finger around the ceramic bowl that held Daniel's keys. "You three were right, huh?"

Daniel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes. We were right."

O'Neill nodded, seemingly missing the accusation in Daniel's tone. "And we knew each other?"

Daniel stuck his fists in his pockets. "How many ways do I have to say it?"

"How well?"

Again, a repeat of information, but if O'Neill needed it, he'd say it again. "I was the closest thing you had to a best friend."

"Closest . . . because we weren't really friends, were we?" The side-eyed look was tinged with fear. What he said wasn't an admission, but it was close enough to scare the shit out of a career military man. It wasn't the first time Daniel had weathered that look, or the fallout from it.

"What do you want me to say?" Daniel circumvented the couch and went for the armchair. He didn't need O'Neill pressing his boundaries any more than he already was.

"You said we traveled to other planets together. I was a _General_. How does that translate to, to, to . . . you?"

Daniel squinted behind his glasses, reminding himself that looking like Jack didn't mean anything. "We were discreet."

O'Neill sat heavily on the couch, elbows on his knees, head bent like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, only Daniel knew—he _knew_ —this O'Neill had no idea what that actually felt like. 

God, the world was ending—again—and Daniel had a second-rate, closeted Jack O'Neill for company. 

"Look," he said, positioning his feet so he could stand up in one smooth motion. "I'm expecting an escort soon. I don't think you meant to get caught here."

O'Neill stood to match Daniel, standing a little too close for Daniel's comfort. Close enough for Daniel to feel the heat and anxiety radiating off the man. Close enough that Daniel's breath caught when O'Neill's fingers brushed Daniel's cheek. A softer Jack stared at him, something vulnerable in his gaze, something Daniel had seen only a handful of times, even when they were at their most intimate.

O'Neill's eyebrow hitched upwards, a wry smile on his face. "World's falling apart."

"It does that," Daniel said. Sometimes it fixed itself, reformed into something else, but every second was fragile because an entire timeline could shift, your entire world could change, and if you weren't in a wormhole at that moment, you wouldn't even know.

"I should have done this earlier." 

Daniel had a half-second of mental recoiling before his body froze and O'Neill kissed him. The lips were the same, he tasted the same, he _kissed_ the same, and Daniel's mouth reacted to the sense memory, to the absence, even as Daniel's brain was screaming how very wrong it was.

He finally got his hands moving and pushed O'Neill away.

"What?"

"No. _You_ what?" Daniel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to forget the part of him that had just enjoyed kissing Jack again. "What the hell?"

"I should have done that earlier," O'Neill repeated, but it didn't clarify anything. 

"What? Now that the world's ending you think it's okay to come get your rocks off with me?" Daniel stepped back, nearly losing his balance on his bad leg. He never should have opened the door.

"It's not _like_ that." He covered his eyes with one hand, a gesture so familiar it almost made Daniel cry. "I . . . I can't explain it, okay? You just . . . Christ, Jackson."

That was the moment. The moment when Daniel couldn't take it any more because this world was so wrong. It wasn't just his leg, or that the Air Force had separated him from the only people he knew, or the fact that he couldn't work in his field or even make a supportive phone call to himself and do _something_ to help _someone_. It was that this world was so wrong and nothing, _nothing_ could make it right.

Not even Jack.

"Go away."

"No." O'Neill was back in his space, looking and smelling and sounding so much like Jack with his pigheaded determination. "I don't know what it is about you. And I know—I know they're going to come for you and ask you questions and take you away. And I probably only have a few minutes, but it's a few minutes, and I’m sorry I didn't do this earlier." He grabbed Daniel's hands, and their fingers laced together instinctively.

"You shouldn't." Daniel meant to pull his hands away, but he couldn't let go of Jack. That had always been Daniel's problem. It was why Ascension didn't work, why he ultimately didn't mind missing out on Atlantis, why he had so damn many sky miles. Even though O'Neill couldn't make any of it better, Daniel couldn't stop wanting him to make it better. "I'm not the answer to any of your problems."

"I'm not asking you to be." His voice cracked on the right word and Daniel's hesitation shattered. 

His hands went into O'Neill's hair and around his neck. Daniel kissed him like they'd always been doing this, and O'Neill fell in line, tongue in Daniel's mouth, hands on his back, pulling them closer. The familiarity felt so good, felt like Jack, and for a second—for just a second—Daniel forgot he was in the wrong timeline and everything was right. Daniel's anger finally wasn't in control; it was just this kiss, just Jack.

They _should_ have done this earlier.

The forgetfulness didn't last, and when he remembered he wasn't kissing Jack, he startled out of the kiss, covering it by breathing hard.

"I love him," Daniel said between breaths. "Loved him," he corrected, admitting that his timeline and his Jack were gone. He should have told Jack—explicitly—should have followed him across the country to D.C. as soon as the Ori were defeated. Hell, he should have transferred when Jack did. 

"I'm not asking you to forget him." His hand pressed against Daniel's heart. "But I can stand in for him. For a little while."

This close Daniel could see the differences. They were subtle: scars, age spots, a misplaced wrinkle. Probably no one else would notice, but Daniel had studied Jack's face so many times, catalogued every contour the same way he catalogued ancient ruins. Why did Daniel always have to be the one to see a Jack O'Neill who didn't know him? When was it Jack's turn for this same pain?

"You're not him," Daniel whispered.

"Does it matter?" 

At the end of the world it always mattered. Who they lived and died for had always been the whole point of sacrifice. 

"Close your eyes." 

Daniel didn't, but he also didn't pull away when O'Neill softly kissed him. 

"Just let me give you this one thing. Please, Daniel."

Daniel swallowed hard at the sound of his name. He'd been waiting to hear it, for that normalcy to be restored, for a year. And O'Neill knew it. Manipulative prick, he thought as he closed his eyes.

A gentle hand stroked his back. Lips touched his cheek and then the lobe of his ear. "You're not leaving me without a proper goodbye this time."

Daniel gasped, a half-laugh stuttering out because of how much the low, soft voice sounded like Jack, his Jack, transcending timelines and realities to say goodbye. A real goodbye. Because the universe fucking owed them this.

"When have we ever gotten goodbyes right?" Daniel leaned his head into Jack, eyes still closed.

"Mmm, gonna say never." Jack's face turned toward him, lips brushing the corner of Daniel's mouth. "Easier to avoid them."

"Easier to stop getting separated." The idea caught in his heart, the impossibility of it lodging in his throat. As much as O'Neill was giving him, Jack was already gone.

Another soft kiss brushed Daniel's lips.

"We'll be together again soon."

They both startled at the knock, military finally coming to collect. When Daniel turned back, he saw O'Neill again, not Jack.

O'Neill put his hand on Daniel's cheek, a sad smile on his face. "I think I could have loved you, too," he whispered. He kissed Daniel one last time and then took charge, moving to answer the door. "You ready for this?"

No. But the universe never gave Daniel a choice about what he was ready for. He grabbed the small bag he'd packed and, with his cane in his hand, checked for his keys before realizing it probably didn't matter if he left the apartment unlocked. "Let's go."

He didn't give the apartment a second look as he left, following behind O'Neill, always following Jack.


End file.
